


Please Don't Touch the Animals

by loudmindsquietpeople



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Artistic Dex, Artistic Process, Based on a Dream, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Model Nursey, Mutual Pining, Zoo, cause why not, nurseydex - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 04:29:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10609299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loudmindsquietpeople/pseuds/loudmindsquietpeople
Summary: When Dex's plans for his art project get trashed, will a certain Dibsmate be able to come to the rescue?Disclaimer: I do not own Check Please! or any of the characters. Those are all thanks to our angel Ngozi, who has given us yet another fantastic gay ice story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for checking this story out! I actually dreamed the whole "then touch me" thing this morning with dex and nursey and I just knew I HAD to write it. I hope you like it! Please drop down to the comments and let me know what you think! Thanks!

            “Are you _still_ pouting, Pointdexter?” Nursey asked, fighting back a grin. It had been over an hour since the team had returned from the zoo, but Dex’s sulk was still going strong and showed no signs of letting up any time soon.

            “’M not pouting,” Dex muttered. The words were defeated, however, by the perfect face plant he’d executed onto his bed right before he spoke them.

            “So what would your current attitude be called? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen my six-year-old cousin face plant into the nearest soft, flat surface when she was ticked off, and it was _definitely_ called pouting.”

            Dex turned his head so that he could look up into Nursey’s amused face. He was gorgeous, of course, with his dark, honey-kissed skin and hazel eyes that put any woodland scene to shame. But at the moment, that pretty face was full of a sarcastic glee that was aimed right at Dex, and it was annoying as hell that he still found Nursey attractive anyway.

    “I’m not pouting,” Dex said again, turning his gaze back to the wall at the end of his bed. “I’m disappointed. I was banking on this zoo trip to give me the material I needed to finish my art project that’s due next week.” Not that any of the hockey guys had expected their team activity to be a _zoo trip_ , but Bitty had been the one to organize it, and no one ever really knew what to expect from him. They had just accepted that Bitty was Bitty, and his word was _law_.

    “Dude, so the handler didn’t let you touch the—excuse me for pointing it out—venomous snake he was exhibiting for the audience. So what? You still got tons of pictures. Why can’t you draw it from those?” Nursey asked, trying to bring his Dibsmate out of the dull mood he’d been stuck in all afternoon.

    “You don’t understand,” Dex said, turning to face Nursey again. “I can’t draw from just looking. I have to _handle_ my subjects before I can draw anything. I can’t understand just by looking or hearing. I can only understand the things I’m trying to draw by touching them. If I don’t do that, I can’t figure out the negative space and it all comes out wrong. And that snake was so _beautiful_. Such a perfect specimen of its species!”

    And suddenly Nursey understood. Because that was Dex. The man who could kill it in Trig or Geometry or Chemistry where there were physical aspects that could be touched and measured, but could barely write a paper to save his life. It was how Dex understood the whole world. He had to find the shapes and edges of life with those clever hands, hands that Nursey thought could fix just about anything. Hands that he sometimes thought might be able to fix Nursey’s broken parts, too, if only Dex ever thought to try. And then Nursey had an idea, and he spoke it aloud before he could talk himself out of it or change his mind.

    “Why not use me?” Nursey asked, giving Dex his best _come and get me_ smile. “If you’re looking for a perfect specimen for your project, you have one right here, all laid out just for you.” And with that, Nursey fell back on his bed. “Come on, Pointdexter,” Nursey urged, adding the edge of a dare to his tone. “Draw me like one of your French girls.” And Nursey struck a dramatically seductive pose, hamming it up just enough to make Dex bust up laughing, until he settled and gave Nursey a long, speculative look.

    “That might actually work,” Dex conceded, continuing to study Nursey’s form as he relaxed into a more natural pose on his bed. “To be honest, I’ve wanted to draw you ever since Hazeapalooza, but I was pretty sure you hated me at the time, and I definitely wasn’t going to ask if I could _touch you_ , even for an art project.”

    Nursey felt his heart stutter and then kick into overdrive as Dex’s words registered. His Dibsmate had just admitted to wanting to _touch him,_ almost since the first time they’d met. Sure, Dex might not have meant it sexually, but Nursey knew what _he_ was feeling, and his body really didn’t care whether or not Dex’s interests were the same. It was just happy that Dex wanted his hands to be anywhere near its general vicinity.

    Nursey forced his scattered thoughts to refocus back on the conversation, and he adjusted to try to hide his reaction to Dex’s words and the mental image those words had formed in his mind. “Sooo, when and where are we going to do this? Because if Chowder comes in and finds you feeling me up, it might lead to a lot of pretty awkward misunderstandings later.”

    Dex looked momentarily stumped, but then his eyes lit up. “You can rent art rooms over in the humanities building for individual work, and if I do that, I can work on the picture while I have you right there in front of me, so that I don’t forget anything before I can get it down on paper. It might take us a few hours for me to get what I need, but after that, I should be able to finish from a picture. Would you be cool with that?”

            Nursey could hardly contain his excitement. He was going to have Dex’s hands _all over him_ for a couple of _hours_? He felt like he’d just won the lottery _and_ Jeopardy all at the same time. He was careful, though, not to let his emotions show on his face.

            “Cool,” he said, rolling over onto his stomach while he played with his phone. He was afraid that if he looked at Dex any longer, the stupid grin he was fighting would come out on his face and then his secret would probably not be so secret anymore. “When are we doing this, though?”

            “Well, we’re both free for the rest of today. If I could get a room, do you think this afternoon would work for you?” Dex asked, already sitting up and Googling the number for the humanities building.

            Nursey blinked once, slowly, and then nodded, before remembering that Dex was looking at his phone. He cleared his suddenly dry throat and said, “Sure. Just… let me take a shower and stuff first.” Nursey didn’t know how this was going to end, but he sure as hell knew how he _wanted_ it to end, and he was going to prepare accordingly. If he ever had a chance with Dex, this was it. Fate was giving him his shot, and Nursey was determined not to waste it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the second half of the Dex and Nursey's artistic adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with some of the hard stuff that I think these two might be facing, but I really love these characters and I hope that comes through despite the pain. Please let me know what you think, if you like it. Hope you enjoy!

            Dex was careful not to look up at Nursey when he came into their room. He always came back from the shower shirtless, and every time Dex fought a bloody war inside himself to keep his eyes off the hard, sleek lines of Derek’s body. He always thought of him that way, as _Derek_ instead of Nursey. It just somehow suited him better, suited his poetic nature, the aesthetic of his writer’s soul. Dex was careful. He never called Derek by his name out loud, but never did he fail to call him by his given name in his mind.

            “So did you get it?” Nursey asked, tugging the towel from around his neck and tossing it into the laundry basket at the end of his bed.

            “Yeah,” Dex replied, listening to the thump of the drawer as it opened and closed. “We’ll have the room from now until it closes at eight. Will that be too much for you? It’s only three now.” His heart was racing at the thought that he’d be touching Derek’s _actual body_ with his _own hands_ in less time than it usually took Bitty to bake a pie. With that thought foremost in his mind, Dex was able to keep his gaze averted from his roommate while he gathered his art supplies: the charcoal sticks, the large 14x16 pad of sketching paper, the eraser and blade, his tortillan, some tissues, and, of course, his camera.

            “Will it take you that long to draw me?” Nursey asked, fully clothed now, but happily dwelling on the fact that he’d be right back out of them again once they got to the art room.

            “Longer, probably,” Dex said, meeting his eyes now. “But I’ll use a picture later. I just need to be able to touch you until I get your basic features down. I use my hands to build the base of my pictures, kind of like finding the skeleton of the piece. After that, the details can be added using a photograph, but getting the proportions right is the hardest part, and that’s a process that for me is pretty much one hundred percent physical.”

            “Wow, Pointdexter,” Nursey said, laughing. “One hundred percent physical, huh? Should I be worried?” And he clasped his hands in front of him and fluttered his eyelashes like the innocent virgin about to be kidnapped by the unchivalrous cad of a black and white film.

            Dex couldn’t help it. He laughed, and then he pretended to twist his moustache. “Of course you should be afraid. This is all just a clever ploy to steal your innocence after all.”

            Nursey almost fell over, he was laughing so hard. “You’re a bit late for that.”

            Dex felt a pang in his chest and immediately dropped the game. It hurt to remember how many girls—and guys—Nursey had already been with here at school, while Dex… Well, he had never been able to bring himself to be with anyone he wanted. The old fear clung to him like used motor oil, making his skin crawl at the thought of giving in to his desires. But what he felt for Derek… It was so much more than the passing curiosity he’s had toward the handsome guys back home. His family were staunch Christians, so he’d never been able to pursue any kind of interest in the boys around him, for fear of losing his family’s love and support. Or worse—for fear of being forced to remain at home to get “treatment for his condition.” Like he was diseased, just because he couldn’t fall in love with the “right” people. But with Derek, it was different. With Derek, he didn’t see the hot body or the suave genteel. He didn’t hear the clever jokes or feel the heat of instant attraction. He saw Derek’s soul—lonely, lovely, just a little bit gnarled and broken in places. But Derek’s soul was _beautiful_. Beneath the cool façade, Dex could see the fragile spirit, the tender heart, the man that _wanted_ to engage and to help others, but was just too afraid of facing more pain and rejection to reach out. And he _desperately_ wanted to touch that soul, to get closer to it, to study and gaze into it at his leisure, to love it and to be loved by it with everything they both had. He wanted—

            “—exter. Earth to Pointdexter. You okay, dude? Are we gonna go or what?” Nursey was waving his hand in front of Dex’s face, trying to bring him back to the present.

            “Oh. Yeah. Yeah! Sorry. I’m such a space cadet sometimes. Let’s go,” Dex said, hoisting the backpack onto his shoulder and bracing the sketch pad under one arm.

            “Wow, did you really just say ‘space cadet’?” Nursey teased gently, trying to bring Dex back around to the good humor they’d been sharing only moments before. “What are you, forty?”

            Dex laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and Nursey noticed. Anxiety clenched his gut and gave it a little twist. They were already out of the Haus and about halfway to the humanities building (it was only a couple blocks away, which had saved Lardo from accidentally flunking out after more than one Epikegster), but Nursey stopped walking and looked at Dex.

            “Listen, man, if you don’t want to do this, now is the time to say. I don’t want to ruin what we have by making it weird or anything, so if—”

            “Whoah, calm down, Nurse,” Dex said, clasping his shoulder firmly with one hand. “Everything’s fine. I was just remembering some not-so-great stuff from back home and it got me down a bit, but it had nothing to do with you, okay?” It wasn’t exactly true, but it wasn’t exactly a lie, either. “If you want to back out of this, it’s fine, but you volunteering to help me out is really saving me. I really appreciate it. It doesn’t bother me at all.”

          Derek’s breathing was slowing down a bit, Dex noticed with some relief. After rooming together for almost a year, Dex knew about Derek’s anxiety and the attacks that could strike with little warning. He had learned what words were helpful and what words weren’t and just how important affirmation was when trying to help calm an attack, but they were always scary. Once, after a serious fight, Dex had slammed out of the room and down to the kitchen to have a cold drink and calm down before returning to their room, fully prepared for Derek to come at him again. What he’d found instead was his Dibsmate, kneeling on the floor, struggling for breath and clutching his chest as though he were having a heart attack. Dex had rushed to him, grasping his shoulders, begging to know if he was okay, just trying to get him to _breathe_. Derek had leaned into him, resting his head on his shoulder, and struggled to slow his breathing until it was a steady rasp that almost matched Dex’s own breathing pattern. Afterward, they’d looked each other in the eye, pale and trembling, and apologized, and then Derek had cried and Dex had wrapped his arm around him and just held him there, silent tears trailing down his face, too. That night, Dex vowed to himself that he’d _never_ to cause Derek to feel that way again. They had never fought like that again. Though they squabbled in the way roommates normally did, they’d both realized how important it was to let go of their pride for long enough to let the other know just how much he was valued. Now they settled their disputes calmly (mostly) and Dex had kept his vow.

          “Sorry,” Nursey mumbled, dropping his head to look at the concrete as they began walking again.

          “Hey, it’s cool.” Dex said, focusing ahead of them so that Derek wouldn’t feel embarrassed. “We all have those days. It’s just part of being human. But I’m really glad you decided to go through with this. I don’t know what I’d have done if you backed out. Failed my life study project, probably.” He felt the tension leaving Derek as though it were steam being let out from a pressure cooker. He didn’t even have to look at him to notice it. It was like the air around them just unwound, settling softly around them again, leaving them to finish the walk in companionable silence.

          When they reached the humanities building, Dex signed them in and led the way to a room on the second floor with no windows facing the hallway. “Art students get super secretive about their final projects before they finish,” Dex explained, as he led Nursey into the small but open room and set his bag down on one of the three chairs. There were windows facing outside, but they were tinted so that, while they could see out, no one else could see in. The light overhead was bright enough not to interfere with the project, but Dex preferred natural light or lamp light—softer and more intimate—than the harsh light of incandescent  bulbs. He began adjusting things (pulling the lamp he preferred out of the closet, setting up his easel and tools, choosing just the right position for Derek’s seat so that the light would caress his features _just this way_ …), and Nursey watched him, admiration and love tangling up together to tickle his stomach and make his heart flutter.

          When Dex was finally satisfied with the setup, he indicated the seat and then positioned Nursey how he wanted _him_ , too. Finally, once everything met Dex’s mystical criteria, he looked up into Nursey’s eyes and said, without a drop of hesitation, “Strip.”

          It took every ounce of Nursey’s willpower to keep his body from reacting as he pulled the shirt off over his head and then ditched his socks, shoes, and jeans, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. He almost felt Dex’s gaze as it travelled over his face, his arms, his chest, lower…

          “You ready?” Dex asked, taking one step toward Nursey but otherwise waiting for permission to move. Nursey nodded and remained perfectly still, waiting for Dex’s touch.

          And then Dex’s hands were on him and he had to bite back a groan.

          At first, he focused on Derek’s face. Not on the eyes or the lips, but on the shape of his jaw, the line of his nose, the angle of the chin, the way the head met the neck. His fingers, calloused but so gentle traced the outline of Derek’s shape time and time again, lulling Derek into an almost-trance of desire and satisfaction. If he were a cat, he’d have purred.

          Nurse felt actual pain when Dex pulled away to capture the shape he’d learned so well with his hands only moments before. However, once he’d gotten the feel of something, Dex worked fast, capturing the lines in charcoal in far less time than it had taken him to recognize them with his tactile senses. Before he knew it, Dex was back, slipping between Nursey’s knees as he came close enough that Nursey could smell his soap. Dex didn’t wear cologne, and Nursey loved it. He smelled better without it anyway.

          This time, Dex’s hands moved more slowly, but with more pressure, more purpose, and his face took on an expression that said that he was lost in Nursey’s shape. For his part, Nurse could hardly breathe, his body was so attuned to the sensation of Dex’s skin against his. He was memorizing how those callouses felt as they brushed across his nipples and swept onward, creating friction against the hard planes of his pectoral and abdominal muscles. By the time Dex’s hands met the top of Nursey’s boxers, a shiver rolled down Nursey’s spine, and there was no hiding what he was feeling anymore. Dex seemed to come to attention at that, noticing the obvious and then looking up in surprise to meet Derek’s eyes. Had he, Dex, really made Derek, _the_ Derek Nurse, most beautiful man alive, playboy extraordinaire… want him? He looked up into his heavy lidded hazel eyes and recognized the sure signs of arousal that burned there.

          “Nurse,” Dex murmured, his hands still resting right above the waist band of Derek’s boxers. “Nurse, what are we—”

          And then Derek’s hands were on _his_ face, and he was pulling Dex roughly against his hard body (and oh, but Dex could feel that he was hard _everywhere_ ), and then they were kissing and Dex’s head was spinning, and he was pretty sure his heart stopped. And then Derek’s tongue was sliding hot and seductive across the seam of his lips and his mouth was opening and Dex was experiencing a whole new dimension of feeling and labeling it as “Want” and “Need” and “Not Enough.” And then Derek was moving against him and “Not Enough” turned into “So Much More” and they were in sync, their hearts and hips and breath following a beat that neither of them needed to be taught in order to know, and Dex was dizzy and his knees were weak, but Derek was holding him up and he couldn’t find it in him to be afraid because it was _Derek_ and he loved him so damn much, and damn anyone who tried to get in the way of this bliss they had found…

          “Will,” Derek breathed against Dex’s lips, and they were kissing again and then they were doing more than kissing and their hands were leaving trails of charcoal and other things as they filled themselves up with love, and when they lay spent in the aftermath, Derek held Dex, and promised him that next time would be better because they would be in a bed and he would be gentler and not get so carried away (though Derek had definitely taken care to prepare the things they’d needed and _wait, how had he known they’d need them_?), but that could all wait, because Dex was finally in his arms and he was happy, so he shushed him and squeezed him gently before he got up and finished scratching his lover’s outline into the paper with the soft charcoal and then took a picture to remember it all by. Later they’d talk and figure everything out and decide who to tell, and when, and how to deal with Dex’s family, and what they might say if they did. But for now they contented themselves to lie down together and learn each other’s shapes with their hands.


End file.
